King Arthur: The Lady of the Lake, her arm clad in the purest shimmering samite, held aloft Excalibur from the bosom of the water, signifying by divine providence that I, Arthur, was to carry Excalibur. That is why I am your king.

Listen, strange women lyin' in ponds distributin' swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony.

Theaetetus:[i.dailymail.co.uk image 638x404]Look, all heroism aside (and really, all he did was comfort her in the tent once she had already been carried to safety and was being worked on by medics), he seriously looks like a douche in this picture. Every element of this, from the posture to the half-tucked in t-shirt to the Saints cap to the fact that he's at the Cambridgeside Galleria, screams douche.

King Arthur: The Lady of the Lake, her arm clad in the purest shimmering samite, held aloft Excalibur from the bosom of the water, signifying by divine providence that I, Arthur, was to carry Excalibur. That is why I am your king.

naughtyrev:That picture of her with her friends - man, that other chick has shark eyes.

And, you know, the thing about a woman... she's got lifeless eyes. Black eyes. Like a doll's eyes. When she comes at ya, doesn't seem to be living... until she bites ya, and those black eyes roll over white and then... ah then you hear that terrible high-pitched screamin'.

titwrench:So the handsome, Purple Heart having, robber chasing war hero happened to be there to comfort the attractive college co-ed that works three jobs to put herself through school and does charity work in her apparent free time. WTF? Who makes this shiat up?

They're Made-for-TV, is what. They must unite and fall in love to a full orchestra soundtrack, then he'll help her with rehabilitating her leg, then, under the strain of the publicity he'll break his sobriety and become an angry, morose drunk. His dead Marine buddies will appear to him in a vision and tell him she's the one for him, don't blow his combat survival, to stay sober and marry her for their sake. Then they'll meet at some formal press junket, her in that Hot Little Number she's wearing in that three-way picture from the Daily Mail, and him in his USMC dress uniform. They'll see each other with a beauty they'd previously recognized and despite the fact that the only thing they have in common is the Boston Marathon Bombing, they'll run together and embrace in front of an applauding press corps. Even the cynical NY reporters who think the whole thing's a sham will be moved and will weep and grin as the camera pans the crowd. And the alcoholic newspaper editor will be inspired to get sober and reunite with his estranged wife.

King Arthur: The Lady of the Lake, her arm clad in the purest shimmering samite, held aloft Excalibur from the bosom of the water, signifying by divine providence that I, Arthur, was to carry Excalibur. That is why I am your king.

Look, all heroism aside (and really, all he did was comfort her in the tent once she had already been carried to safety and was being worked on by medics), he seriously looks like a douche in this picture. Every element of this, from the posture to the half-tucked in t-shirt to the Saints cap to the fact that he's at the Cambridgeside Galleria, screams douche.